Chapter 17

The royal quarters of the Undercity stood in stark contrast to the rest of the city's decayed and gloomy atmosphere, rivaling that of Stormwind in its own sense. Here, splendid elegance replaced depressive ruin; the air, instead of being heavy with the stench of decay, was infused with the subtle scent of blooming flowers. The first thing Ainz noted was that only the elven rangers were present, all of whom had next to no signs of degradation, and all shared smooth gray skin and red glowing eyes. No stench of rot was present, and the air was filled with pleasant flowery fragrances.

He could see the intense relief on Buku's face the moment the double door guardian of the sanctuary of the banshee Queen closed behind them, her expression softening and betraying a sense of calm that had been elusive since their arrival. Sylvanas walked in front of them with catlike grace, her fingers twitching slightly as if hinting at her readiness to jump into action at any moment. Which considering what had just happened was understandable.

"I will host you as long as you require and cover all your expenses, but in return, I want no trouble in my lands, understood?" Sylvanas began, her tone firm but courteous as she turned to face the duo.

"This is the first place we were attacked without provocation. I could always restart what I began earlier. Stormwind and Ironforge are much friendlier towards us, you know. I can't wait to leave this dump." Buku shot back, her words as sharp as daggers, showing no consideration for Sylvanas' authority.

Sylvanas stopped abruptly and sharply turned her head with a piercing gaze fixed on Buku, "I find it hard to believe that the alliance let you walk freely through their cities. They are not willing to talk with the undead, much less tolerate their presence in their lands… shapeshifting or illusions?"

"Don't get any ideas. We won't become the pawns of the horde," Buku replied curtly, avoiding the question with practiced ease.

Ainz observed quietly, aware that Buku's frustration was rooted in the earlier confrontation. The mere thought of Sylvanas's attack nearly forcing her to unleash her full power—and potentially harming Ainz—had left her greatly agitated. While he knew the damage to him would have been negligible, the idea that the Banshee Queen had come close to overcoming his defenses was an unsettling thought for the duo, who had so far been effectively invincible.

"We are all pawns to twists of fate. Sooner or later, you will pick a side, be it Alliance or Horde, to face the horrors of the scourge. Weak or strong, none can afford to be on their own in this damned world of ours." Sylvanas spoke philosophically, yet with a touch of melancholy, resuming her walk with a grace that belied the weight of her words. Her voice carried the bitterness of past betrayals and the resolve of someone who had faced the abyss and returned, of decades of experience of life. "I was once a hero of the Alliance, the ranger general of Quel'thalas. Till my last breath, I fought to stop Arthas, and for that, I was made into this… monstrosity. And for that, for my sacrifice for them to live, the Alliance rejected me… my own people. The Horde might be a better option for you."

"A fair point, but it will be us who decide where we stand should we get involved in any conflicts." Ainz shot down her subtle attempt at advertising her faction as the more honest one. Every politician was a scheming liar, no matter the cause.

Sylvanas nodded, accepting his deflection with a knowing smile. "I will arrange a meeting with the Warchief of the Horde, Thrall, for you. With his blessing, you would be able to travel all the lands of Horde without any restriction. But tell me, why are you traveling the world? Individuals like you must have a goal that affects us all. To wield such power, you no doubt have grand goals."

As she led them into a guest room, Ainz and Buku found themselves surrounded by a setting that seemed to belong to another world entirely, a stark contrast to the environment they had arrived from. Unlike the bare gray walls of the city, this room was painted in golden and red colors, catching the eye no matter where you looked. The furnishings exuded elegance, made with grace and artistry Ainz hadn't seen anywhere in the realm, including literal royal palaces.

"Why would we tell you our plans? All you leaders are the same, you want us to do your dirty work and keep our heads down." Buku retorted, still hostile towards the undead elf as she glared at her.

Sylvanas, to her credit, maintained a neutral demeanor, motioning for them to settle on the ornate sofas that seemed almost too fragile to withstand Ainz's massive frame. As she settled down, crossing her legs with an air of casual authority, another undead elf entered, carrying a dusty wine bottle and three clean glasses. Clad in the same ranger attire, her role was clearly that of a maid, yet she moved with the same eerie grace as her comrades.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Sylvanas invited, watching as the maid expertly poured the wine for the two who were sitting down.

"Your tongue is sharp for someone who can wield light. Surely you are not so naive to think you can walk everywhere with complete disregard for the powers that be. Such a curious case. Two individuals with such power yet you have no affiliations, no motives, and no plans. Such an anomaly cannot be ignored." Sylvanas' words cut through the air with a precision that matched her reputation as a city leader of the damned. She lifted her glass, observing the deep crimson of the wine as if it held the secrets of a world long lost. "Wine? This is a vintage from before the fall of Quel'thalas. I thought it fitting to share it with you. Not much of it remains as after the scourge invasion, the grapes do not grow in most of these lands anymore, making this bottle a relic of the past and in short supply."

The ranger offered glasses to Buku and Ainz who accepted them without hesitation, unconcerned about potential poisoning attempts. The aroma was rich and intoxicating, a fragrance that spoke of a time when life still flourished in these lands, splendid and brilliant.

Ainz buttoned up his robe and switched to a relatively pale undead visage, nonverbally answering Sylvana's question on how they could move through human lands unrestricted as he reached for a glass. He politely sampled the vintage, following Buku's example of proper mannerisms as she had taught him for the public events back when they still were humans. Any faux paus in manners could be passed off as them being foreigners to the land.

Sylvana's gaze never once left them as they drank, observing and analyzing every action and gesture. With force not being an option, all she could do was to use other methods to get a better understanding of the mysterious pair who was a step away from becoming one of the greatest adversaries for not only the forsaken but the Horde at large. With such power, they were bound to do great deeds, deeds she wanted in on.

"I get the curiosity that all of you have. Obviously, you would want to know who we are and what we want to do." Buku glanced at Ainz, seeking his guidance. Despite her personal feelings, she understood that befriending an influential Horde leader would be beneficial. She had done similar with bosses back on Earth. Her husband's logical and calculating nature made him better suited to decide on their general direction, while she supported him with her opinions for the finer details.

"Let's for now agree that we can be called upon to help with occasional internal problems and possible world-ending threats, for proper compensation, of course. But we will not agree to get involved in political conflicts. If this Scourge is as dangerous as all our sources imply, we will stand with you against it, but whether we fight for you will be determined then." Ainz proposed, offering a diplomatic solution that was vague enough to not be used against them in any legal manner. He knew a thing or two from his days of working jargon around the clock.

"Such terms are agreeable. I'll be sure to notify Warchief about your terms and I'm sure he will honor them. If there is one thing I can say about Thrall, he is a man of his word above all else." Sylvanas nodded in agreement, a hint of respect in her eyes. "For now, you can enjoy my hospitality until the next zeppelin departs for Kalimdor, unless you plan to use more direct transportation methods. But I would recommend you do not roam around undercity for now. You did kill a few of my death guards, and my subjects may not be all too happy to see you roaming freely."

Buku chuckled, her voice laced with sarcasm as she leaned back. "Oh, I'm sure they'll just love us now. Nothing says 'welcome' like a bit of unintentional guard slaying."

Sylvanas smirked, acknowledging the irony. "Indeed, your presence has certainly made an impression. I'll make sure to keep the rabble at bay."

"Since we have agreed to be on friendly terms, I can reanimate the guards and not assume any direct control over them." Ainz offered, his tone as polite as ever, though the weight of his power was unmistakable, given he was the husband of the holy-genocidal Buku.

The suggestion, however, was met with a visibly unpleasant reaction from Sylvanas. Her fingers twisted together, and her knuckles whitened, teeth grinding audibly as she processed the implication. It was as if a ghost from her past had whispered in her ear, stirring memories of chains she'd long since broken and threatening to bring them back.

"Is such an offer against local customs? My intent wasn't to offend." Ainz, ever the diplomat, was ready to withdraw the offer and wanted to clarify things just in case. Apparently he had stepped too far.

"If you are capable of such a feat, then by all means reanimate them." Sylvanas stood, her voice steady, yet her eyes betrayed a mixture of intrigue and fear towards the undead skeleton. She signaled subtly to the ranger serving as a maid, motioning for her to leave. Her thoughts swirled, 'This monster is no different than the Lich King, yet plays this charade of diplomacy. What is his game?' She was intrigued and terrified of the pair at the same time. Such allies would help her get the long-desired revenge on the monster that took everything from her, but at the same time, what if Ainz could just take over her will and make her a slave just like Lich King once had? She'd just be exchanging one master for another.

The fallen death guards were quickly brought into her quarters minutes later and laid before Ainz. With a wave of his hand, he reanimated them, a faint glow enveloping their bodies as life - or something like it - returned to their hollow forms, empowered once more. Sylvanas watched closely, her senses sharp, searching for any sign of control left within. Yet there was nothing, only the absence of domination, but that meant nothing in the face of advanced necromantic magics of which she had little knowledge of. She could only hope that the two loyal men had enough willpower to resist Ainz, should he try to control them in a betrayal.

<X >

With Ainz and Buku retreating to the guest room she had assigned to them, Sylvanas began composing her letter to Thrall. Though she and the Warchief of the horde weren't on the best of terms, they maintained a relationship built on mutual courtesy and interests, and Sylvanas had no intention of doing anything that would betray the Horde… at least, not at present.

Her hand moved with precise, elegant strokes, crafting the curved lines of the high elves' highly stylized writing. It had taken nearly a year to regain this skill after she had reclaimed and possessed her own deceased body, a struggle thanks to how sluggish it felt compared to before. The nerves in her palms had partly rotted away, making them less sensitive and harder to control. The necromantic energies could regenerate her body to a near-pristine undead, but they couldn't restore it to what it once was at its peak.

Despite these limitations, most of her body was still as responsive as before, allowing her to enjoy simple pleasures like food and most entertainment in her otherwise hellish existence.

Sylvanas quickly wrote down all the relevant information without skipping anything and put it in an envelope, carefully selecting a stamp. She sealed the letter in a musty envelope with a wax seal marked with her family crest, a proud reminder of her once-beloved heritage. Done with the task, she snapped her fingers. A demon close to three meters tall appeared beside her, his upward-curving horns brushing the ceiling from his sheer height. His hoofed feet tapped against the floor with a clacking sound as he neatly folded his massive leathery wings behind his back, kneeling before her.

This was Varimathras, a dreadlord who had served her ever since he betrayed his peers during the short civil war that had erupted among the scourge forces. Some had broken free from the Lich King's control, while others remained loyal when the monster had grown weaker for unknown reasons, retreating with him. She knew that the demon was a double-faced snake that knew nothing else but self-interest, but after he performed the unthinkable - killing his own kind in front of her eyes- he had nowhere else to go, for the Legion too despised traitors. The betrayal had forced him into her service, leaving him with no choice but to remain loyal. Any other city leader would have his head on the spot, including those among the Horde, besides her.

Sylvanas stared at Varimathras with a mixture of irritation and begrudging respect. The demon was an excellent tactician and politician despite his treacherous nature, having assisted her throughout her reign. A reasonable action would be to kill him, but the demon was giving her all the right advice to lead the forsaken towards the one goal that mattered to her: revenge. Her sole reason for existence was to put an arrow through Lich King's black heart, and he was more than happy to assist in striking down the individual who had exiled him. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or so they say in these harsh lands.

"My lady, I have returned with all I could gather," Varimathras stated in his deep, resonant voice, giving a short bow that barely concealed his smirk.

"Report," Sylvanas commanded, her voice icy.

"Ainz and Buku have seemingly appeared out of thin air in the Elvynn forest. There are reports that Buku is able to cast the largest reported mass blessing in Stormwind's history, a feat that has left the city's religious circles in awe and attracted the attention of their entire political circle. A few days ago, Ainz and Buku stopped a prison riot near-single handedly by killing over four hundred inmates in a single session. My agents report that the Stormwind spy network is in panic mode and has not been able to put eyes on these entities." Varimathras's eyes gleamed with the pleasure of delivering such disturbing news.

"Do not attempt to spy on them further, instead try to keep tabs on their location. Deliver this to Thrall and send him my regards." Sylvanas instructed, handing him the sealed envelope, putting away her quill.

"As you command." Varimathras took the letter with a flourish, leaning forward. "Might I suggest planning some contingencies in case we have to deal with these individuals?" Varimathras continued, his face twisting with a subtle smirk, lips barely parting and revealing an upper row of razor-sharp teeth.

Sylvanas raised an eyebrow, knowing better than to ignore the demon's advice on the matter, "What do you have in mind?"

"There are plenty of proud meat shields within the ranks of the Horde. They would benefit from knowing that Ainz is not only an undead but a necromancer. And you, my Lady, can reveal to your fellow faction leaders that he can control the undead, thus making him a threat equal to that of the Lich King. This revelation could be used to galvanize our forces and possibly force the Lich King to make some risky moves."

Sylvanas nodded, absorbing the suggestion. "And the Alliance?"

"Similar information should be disseminated among their leaders. Let them know that Ainz's powers make him a formidable threat. Finally, we should look into the ways to turn Ainz against Buku. I can make it happen." Varimathras added with a smirk that suggested he took a perverse delight in manipulating others. Which he did, but as long as he was helpful, Sylvanas was fine with looking the other way.

"Very well," Sylvanas sighed, dismissing the demon with a wave of her hand. "You can carry out this plan."

"Excellent." Varimathras tilted his head and teleported away in an instant.

Varimathras vanished, leaving behind faint traces of fel energies, a reminder of his infernal origins. Sylvanas stood in the dim light of her quarters, feeling the weight of her existence pressing down on her. Her hand instinctively drifted to her chest, the searing pain of light still burned from within and would do so for a while. Buku's blast was so powerful she nearly died from a single hit, capable of slaughtering dozens with a single ray if she so chose to do so. Such control over the light was beyond everything she had ever seen, in both life and death. It was as if Buku could channel the sun itself, burning away darkness with a mere flick of her wrist. The mysterious woman could be the bane of all undead if she so wished.

Doubt seeped into her mind. Perhaps trying to manipulate or undermine Ainz and Buku was not the wisest course, and a true alliance would be a better option, considering the dangers she posed. She was well aware that most of the Horde hated her and her people. They were abominations, a crime against the natural order, bound to walk this earth until their minds deteriorated and bodies crumbled. There were a lot of forsaken who sayed dead after receiving fatal blows but she alongside the dark rangers were not so fortunate.

"Why such monsters?" she mused aloud, her lone voice echoing softly in the ornate room. Two impossibly powerful creatures just show up out of thin air and walk the world like vagabonds. Their presence stirred chaos, unraveling the careful balance of power and politics wherever they went, piece by piece. It was as if they were harbingers of some great change, yet they moved with an air of nonchalance that was infuriating and fascinating.

Ultimately, all she wanted to be sure of was that Arthas paid for what he had done to her and her beloved homeland. A homeland she couldn't return to. Her own kind could only see a rotting monster, a mockery of their once brave ranger general, but she would do what they could not.

As she pondered her next move, the subtle elegance of her quarters seemed almost mocking. The opulence felt out of place, a stark contrast to the grim reality outside these walls, a representation of her chasing the remnants of life. But for now, it was a refuge, a place where she could scheme and plan and dream of a world where Arthas was no more.

Edited by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, aidan_lo, and Malguis

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